The Innocent

I don't go out of my way usually to see John Schlessinger movies-somehow Sunday, Bloody, Sunday never had the impact on me, that it did on others. In fact, I always have to remind myself that Herr. Schlesinger directed Cold Comfort Farm, seeing as I enjoyed it immensely.

Why then am I watching The Innocent? Two immediate reasons come to mind. First, my affinity for The Comfort of Strangers has sent me on a mission to find all adapted Ian McEwan novels. Second, the fact that Campbell Scott stars is something to which I immediately find appealing.

In recent years I've decided that Scott will soon become an important American actor…his almost genius cameos in The Daytrippers, and Big Night (which he also co-directed) as well as his starring role in David Mamet's Spanish Prisoner lend me to believe the young man is indeed on his way.

The film itself, unfortunately pales in comparison to a startling, brilliant piece of work like Comfort of Strangers. Anthony Hopkins is miscast as an American CIA agent, the story is shallow and uneven.

On to the next McEwan work.

This movie has three serious flaws. It never finds a focus, (ultimately, I cared very little about any of the characters), it has the always fateful flaw of dialog that gets lost in whispered tones or buried beneath the score or SFX, and finally ... WHY, in heaven's name is Anthony Hopkins using his not-so-convincing American accent to play a character that could have been played better by half-a-dozen American actors? And I'm a Hopkins fan! Sorry, it just doesn't work. Although it tries to be both a suspense and love story, it accomplishes neither. That's all the more frustrating when the end arrives with what I assume is an homage to Casablanca. The whole thing is poorly focused and generally weak, despite solid performances by Isabella and Scott.

I quite liked this film. But probably because I think there are perhaps more important things than the manner in which Anthony Hopkins is miscast. You just have to overlook that. Campbell Scott is great and really carries the whole film. I really enjoyed the way the film was held together, the cinematography and the use of really bad American Music to get across the brashness and invasiveness of their culture even back then. If you've read books like Spycatcher you'll appreciate this film. On the other hand if you think Bond films are good, you'll most likely hate it. I would have liked the sex scenes to be more, shall we say 'fleshed out', they fade off all too quickly. It's very rare in popular film that you get good sex scenes that are filmed with warmth and tenderness. The use of lighting and angles is great. What got to me more than Hopkin's dodgy accent was the stupid female character. Can't we just forget reality for a bit and stop casting women as quivering idiots. Sure that's how they seem to behave in all important situations, but it's so annoying to be put through it over and over again. Let's have an intelligent female lead who decides she's going to take responsibility for her dumb, impulsive behaviour and make amends. As opposed to leaving everything up to the bloke and then running off with his friend. And did anyone notice that all the men around her drink heavily? I think this would be a good book and there's obviously stuff missing from the film, but still I give it 8/10.

There was here a phenomenal film but something got into its system and destroyed it. Not completely, whoever perpetrated the crime wasn't talented enough to go all the way and some beautiful pieces of evidence, showing the masterful hand of John Schlesinger, survived the massacre. The atmosphere of the first hour for starters. Isabella Rosellini's performance. Her best. Campbell Scott an actor incapable of being boring, not even when he plays bores. Trevor Howard before him was a master at that. The truth is that the reviews had been so bad that the only two reason I actually bough a ticket were 1. John Schlesinger, one of my heroes 2.Hart Bochner, yep, after "Apartment Zero" I was desperate to see him again, in anything. Well he was hardly in it, at least not on this, obviously, mutilated, butchered version I saw. I did spend quite a few bucks in therapy to have my therapist say that my obsession with "Apartment Zero" was quite harmless. No, according to him my real problem was a huge monstrous woman. I must confess it disturbed me a little bit. But that night I had a dream. I dreamed that the film had been taken away from John Schlesinger by a huge monstrous woman. Go figure.

I like watching this film every time they repeat it on TV, because I can't stop counting the dozens of references to "Casablanca".

My favourite is without doubt the final - guess what? - airport scene, where Isabella Rossellini (Elsa, err, Ingrid Bergman's daughter!) gets on board the propeller-engined plane, this time (surprise, surprise!) with the aging American and leaving behind the boring spy-guy, who is (dramatic change of scriptbook) not Czech, but British.